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Messages - Gideon Fawcett

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Elsewhere Accepted / The Grubstake
« on: 27/04/2015 at 17:21 »



SHOPKEEPER PERMIT
You must have applied as an Elsewhere character before completing this permit.

Shop name: The Grubstake
Shop Type: Inn, Smuggle Exchange, Loan Shark Entreprise
Location: Diagon Alley
Subforum? Assuming it’s accepted, I’ll take out a Shopkeeper Subscription, yes.

Short Description (50 words max): In the front, ordinary pub and inn, in the back, shady dealings galore.
Long Description (200 words min):
The Grubstake is a pub and inn on the corner of Diagon Alley and Prime Alley. The double doors running diagonally between the two outward walls are walnut with paned glass in the middle. Above the entrance hangs a tin sign stating “The Grubstake, est. 1847”, which is continually dangling whenever someone opens the left door. The front is yellow bricks and rectangular windows, making it easy for customers to follow the flow of the street if conversation is sparse. Its rectangular shape stretches along Prime Alley.

Inside, customers of all kinds appear at first onto a cherry dais, upon which sits a hat stand. To the right behind said hat stand people will find a row of cubicles entertaining six seats, fitted with red plush to soften the experience of the hardwood mahogany. To the left, beneath the windows facing Prime Alley, are pebbled a few café tables for two.
 
Immediately in front of the dais is a stretch of naked wooden floor before the actual bar. A polished counter runs parallel to the Intern Alley front, and to the left of this bar is an unseemly birch door that doesn’t seem to fit into the wood palate. On the door hangs a plastic sign saying “Authorised personnel only”. The far wall hosts a fire place, a rug and three couches with a table between them. These are further lighted with small, green-shaded lamps on corner tables, and behind them, on the right side of the bar, is a door to the stairs leading up to the second floor and to the loos.

Behind the birch door is a long, narrow hallway. On the left one will find the offices of the owner, the manager and the personnel bathroom with changing closets. On the right is the door to the kitchen, which also has an entrance to the bar, from where waiters bring out the food. At the bottom of the hallway is a door leading outside to the left – this will take employees to a small cobblestone patio surrounded by an overgrown and rotten two-metre wooden fence with a door opening up to a small backyard which steals out into Knockturn Alley. Employees are welcomed to take their smoke breaks out there, as smoking in the kitchen is absolutely forbidden.

The only door left in the hallway is the locked, oak door at the end. It looks brittle but is enforced heavily with magical concealment charms, the Fidelius charms and other security measures. Only one key is in existence, with a spell that resists any copying. Behind this door is the establishment’s smuggling office. Customers are usually not invited in, though the current manager did make the mistake once. Instead they are led to the courtyard and asked to wait for their package there in order not to arouse suspicion.

As an inn, The Grubstake also hosts a few smaller flats on the second floor: twelve to be precise. These all contain one master bedroom with living/dining room facilities as well as a separate bathroom and a tea kitchen. In three of the flats are also offered another, separate bedroom for families with children. The establishment has a family-friendly reputation in its role as respectable pub and inn, while the hidden backroom contains business for those who are not afraid to dirty their hands. The owner and manager have also been known to approve of loans at favourable interest rates – to themselves.

What purpose will this shop serve other than selling things and being the home of your character? Why would people want to RP there just for fun?
First of all, looking at Diagon Alley, there are no simple, ordinary pubs for people to sit and eat a hearty meal or have a drinking game. The Royal Casino, the bakery and The Rose target seemingly specific groups with specific purposes, whereas The Grubstake can be the place for a romantic dinner for two, a short lunch for the family shopping for next term, a night out or just a place to rest your legs in a place without flowers draped all over. The Grubstake would target a much larger group of Elsewhere characters.

Second of all, it offers an address destination for people who might have come to live in London recently (as war fugitives or the like) and haven’t found a place to stay or as a motel for meeting your secret lover, thanks to the apartments and rooms for rent above the pub.

Third of all, with all the criminal activity that seems to be on the upswing in Elsewhere, The Grubstake ties in very nicely with those plots. With a smuggling ring at Moulin Rouge, a mob hideout at The Royal Casino and the general criminal NPC plot, an establishment that sells these wares to potential clients and keeps the smuggling ring alive with business seems to be a good place for people to also make deals, collect special wares. This also gives Ministry workers/spies/the like a chance to try to snuff out the activity, although the peaceful family inn is supposed to work as pretty airtight cover, the awkward and insecure manager as a deterrent from even suspecting the place.

2
Elsewhere Accepted / Gideon Fawcett
« on: 25/04/2015 at 18:00 »

E L S E W H E R E   A D U L T

CHARACTER INFORMATION
Character Name: Gideon Alexander Fawcett
Gender: Male
Age: 26, DOB: 24th of May, 1918
Blood Status: Halfblood

Education: 
Marvellous Mornay’s Middle School
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Ravenclaw Class of ‘35

Residence:
Above The Grubstake, Diagon Alley

Occupation:
Manager of The Grubstake 

Do you plan to have a connection to a particular existing place (for example: the Ministry, Shrieking Shack) or to take over an existing shop in need of new management?
N/A

Requested Magic Levels:
Adult characters have 32 starting levels to distribute across these four categories (less levels can be used if you so desire, but no more than 32). The number of levels on the lowest ability must be at least half of the highest ability.

If you want levels above the usual 32 total, or a significantly uneven distribution of starting levels, please fill out and submit the Special Request form here.

  • Charms: 7
  • Divination: 10
  • Transfiguration: 9
  • Summoning: 6
Do you wish to be approved as a group with any other characters? If so who and for what IC reason?
N/A

Please list any other characters you already have at the site:
Thaddeus Bellamy

Biography: (300 words minimum.)
He had bought the cat to cure his loneliness; instead it’d become a mascot for it.

A deliberate purr rose from between his feet and Gideon rose from his chair, pulling his knees up comically to avoid stepping on the fluffy, white hairball. Bending down, he lodged two overgrown hands around the meowing cat, hoisting it into his arms.

“There we go, Ferguson, time to go pee-wee.”

It was a ridiculous thing to say the way Ferguson was a ridiculous name for a cat, and Gideon grimaced self ironically at the statement, his mouth a terse, twisted line of distaste. Outside the door to his office, he dislodged the cat only to watch it elevate its tail and patter away towards the door huffing. You’d truly failed miserably when even the animal supposed to offer company and support felt itself above you, Gideon thought, patting himself commiseratingly on his shoulder.

Ferguson was nothing more than a fancy name he’d picked out in a newspaper; believing the fact that he’d smudged the ink of that particular word had to be a sign from above, he’d vindictively given it to his newly purchased cat like a senior on the first day of school, entitled to pick on the younger kids as a sort of karmic resolution.

A bell rang, and Gideon went out of the office, closing the door after him with his hands behind his back. It sounded like a frightfully impatient ring, and he hesitated. Then he puffed up his chest and went out to the counter with a consternated expression on his face.

Tanned and muscly, the man at the counter looked nothing like the usual customers of The Grubstake. Looking around, Gideon saw Mrs. Pickering, an old lady with an affinity for whiskey at 12pm, Mr. Jones and Mr. Fawcett, two self-proclaimed high gentlemen of the estate who walked in every morning with muddy boots and a flush on their cheeks. Usually, Frederick Leander would also be there, which was Gideon’s favourite days. Frederick Leaner was a healthy 25-year-old with an even smile and an chatty disposition. Though Gideon never quite had talked to him, he always enjoyed watching him from a distance.

“’Ey, mate, took you long enough,” this out-of-place customer grumbled. The man was tall and brawny in perfect contrast to Gideon who was a lanky youth who couldn’t grow a beard. His clothes smelled funny, and Gideon thought he had a backwards pronunciation, reminding Gideon of his mother and father who’d happily gone to Africa a couple of years ago to explore and exploit the British colonial system.

“Pardon,” Gideon replied caustically, “but I had to travel the distance from the office to the counter.”

That seemed to confuse the stranger, who scrunched up his nose for a second before deciding on the right way to move the conversation forward by saying, “The crows fly high today.”

It was a weird thing to say at any time of year, but Gideon simply nodded, suddenly in his element.

“Come with me, if you please, sir.”

At this, the stranger’s expression seemed to clear up, as if aa simple statement and a quick confirmation was all he had ever wanted from life, and now this brief exchange had given it to him, a sudden metaphor for his lack of validation and a dissipating anxiety as they walked behind the counter out back and down the hallway, past Gideon’s office.

Of course, you could also argue he looked simply hungry.

Reaching the end of the hall, Gideon produced 17 keys from one, sliding in an elongated, lavishly decorated one into the keyhole before opening the door and asking the man to enter. This seemed to satisfy him greatly, the recognition mounting by every second. Gideon followed him into the room and locked the door, which seemed to produce a nervous expression on the customer’s face (Gideon almost comforted him, but was then distracted by not wanting to after all).

Ignoring it, he went towards one of the shelves at the far end of the room. To the untrained eye, it might have looked like a private postal office, packages and letters sent to and fro, but underneath each of the shelves was a marking, each with a contextual nonsense phrase underneath. Quickly establishing the location of the customer (who now shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other—a quick glance backwards even revealed him to be wringing his hands unconsciously, looking around the room), Gideon pulled out a long, slim box wrapped in a brown, inconspicuous paper.

“There you are, sir. Unicorn blood, that will be 25 Galleons, 17 Sickles, if you please.”


Roleplay: 
You come across one of these posts on the site. Please select one & reply as your character:

Option One -
Amelia Nixon was many things, but she was never a pushover reporter that people could just usher away with a busy shuffle past. She was dedicated and eager to cut to the very middle of the current political tensions because she was Amelia Nixon and her articles would most certainly become front page material.

“Sir, please! It’s for the Prophet, how do you feel-“

Another one brushed passed her, the shuffling busy masses making their way through Diagon Alley for the lunchtime rush. This had been the best possible time to get people, but none of them were giving her anything to go with.

Only momentarily discouraged, the short red headed lady took a seat on a nearby bench. Her quill resting in her left hand and her notepad ready in the opposite hand. Amelia pouted, tapping the quill against her leg as she scanned the waves of people for somebody - anybody - who looked like they had something to say.

She had been dreaming of her name in bold print, Amelia Nixon: The Source of Today’s Tomorrow. She had been dreaming of the larger office and the secretaries that would fetch her the morning coffee and fetch her anything she needed. The VIP interviews and the most exclusive press passes. But all Amelia had was a page seventeen piece on the rising number of frogs in London.

Hardened by a day of no success, the reporter stood up and started to trod off down the alley. A loose stone on the cobble path caught her heel, sending the distraught girl toppling down to the ground.

“Merlin’s fog watch, my heel is broken! Help!” she yelled as she tried desperately to recover her shoe frantically in the middle of the Diagon Alley moving crowds. 

Roleplay Response:
Summer days were hell for the wobble-kneed. Gideon had set out from The Grubstake, long trousers and warily wearing a thin t-shirt showing off his elbows. Grumbling, he pushed through the heaving, sweating body of Diagon Alley-folks. It was funny, really, how many people turned into cogs in a churning machine without oil in the hot summer weather, literally groaning, moaning and falling apart in the heat.

Somewhere to his right a little boy dropped his ice cream, gave a convincing wail and started an argument as heated as the dense air between his mother and some bypassing stranger the little dyke claimed to have pushed him.

Deeply frightened, Gideon pushed up his imaginary collar and trooped on.

His actions weren’t completely his own, not because Mr. Mandrake, the proprietor of The Grubstake, had sent him on a mission, but because the individual completely disappeared in the mass of the population; one wrong step, Gideon wasn’t even sure you were able to fall for lack of space.

Until, of course, someone did.

”Help!

Frantically looking around, Gideon established that no one was bending to help the young woman (she looked suspiciously like an establishment of one of their revered institutions; Gideon didn’t quite trust badges of any kind), and he had half a mind to move with the current, let it take him away, and claim inability to move if anyone confronted him.

(Not that anyone would confront him, what a stupid idea, if anyone had seen him not helping her, they had been there in the situation, hardly helping her themselves, why would he even think that anyone cared-)

Without noticing, Gideon had broken loose, now crouching like a child on the floor of his home at Christmas, blindly looking for snacks hidden in the carpet with his hands. Padding the hot cobblestones, he looked up indignantly and said in a high-pitched voice, “Why
would you wear heels on such a layer as cobblestones—on such a day as this?!”

OTHER
How did you find us? Magic

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